Heartless Bastards

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That's all they ever are in the movies.
Heartless bastards.
Everyone watching says why is she with him?? like she's some kind of idiot.

She's not, you know.

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They don't show you the broken pieces of her soul in the part where he cries in her arms about his past, fists clenching soiled red flags. You don't see those pieces get stitched together when he uses words like good and kind and doesn't deserve her, words she never heard all those times her mother tore her apart and her father didn't come home for dinner.

Too complicated to portray in the movies. I guess that's why the book is always better.

Still.

Those heartless bastards really do sell. Everyone loves a good hate target.

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It's easier to remember them that way, too.

In real life.

Heartless Bastards. She might even ask herself if that title deserves all those capital letters.

They hurt more than they heal, though she'll log countless hours of self-sacrifice before she comes to the realization that ultimately ends the uneven exchange. Bitter is better. She'd rather hurt than remember the sweetness that made her stay. Her stomach turns at the memory of hypnotic touch, of long nights of passion. She doesn't want to remember words of admiration, love-filled eyes, bashful smiles, or the book of poetry dedicated to her that she would one day place on a street corner in the rain.

Easier to call it a trap. Manipulation. Stockholm Syndrome.

Harder to admit she could ever love someone that would hurt her so badly.

Hardest to admit how little she loved herself. And for how long.

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13 comments
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I particularly analyse before going to sleep what I did during the day, the most significant things... what marked me, how I acted, if I did it correctly, if I could have done it better or if I should have done nothing.
After reading here, I add something to this review. I will observe it, without criticising myself too much and with a little more compassion towards myself.
I will get better one day, I'm sure I will.

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Your words are my fuel, my friend. I teared up when I read this. Thank you. We all need more self love. Inspiring it in others is a great honor.

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That's some fine writing there, my friend.

Medium. Franco Armati. Can't remember the name of the community as haven't had coffee yet.

Where's the goddamned coffee?!

Um...

When posts have closed for earning here. Go and post it there. This fits. He will love your work. 👍🏾

I'll send link when on desktop

Again. Good work!

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Thanks!!! I will totally look into that. Any opportunity to earn even a smidge in a world where we give so much energy to the billionaires is good.

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Oh gods no. It's corporate af over there and the house always wins.

Just good exposure.

"Scuzzbucket" - the name of the pub. Some great stuff on there. I tried to lure him over here ages ago. Lovely human.

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Scuzzbucket

That's the pub name. You won't earn much on Medium, probably. But connections are important 🫡

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Hardest to admit how little she loved herself. And for how long.

Fuck. That was stellar writing. Obviously from a place of deep hurt. But hoping every syllable helps towards healing, my friend. :)

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Thanks @honeydue. It hurts much less than it used to, but healing is eternal, or at least until we're done here. Healing is also good content. 🙃 Good inspiration.

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